


By Any Other Name

by Denise



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's my Henry origin story...and I wrote it in between learning that he was a youngster not an infant so.....just roll with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Any Other Name

* * *

Disclaimer Sanctuary is owned by S3M and lots of folks that aren't me. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands.  This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

He knew that she was back, long before he heard the distant rattle of the exterior gate or the low roar of the car's engine. His senses, so sensitive that he often had to ignore them, heard her car driving from blocks away and smelled her scent, carried on the breeze. 

Normally, he did not feel the need to greet her when she returned – even though he often accommodated her declaration that it was only polite to greet her upon her return.

However, this time his curiosity drove him to leave his warm nest if for no other reason than to see the waif or stray she was bringing into the Sanctuary.

He lumbered down the hall and made his way towards her laboratory.  As he got closer he could hear her voice, speaking softly to someone. Perhaps she was returning with a second guest that she had neglected to tell him about? He huffed. Just what they needed, another resident.

He entered the laboratory, sniffing the air cautiously. "There you are," she said, glancing up from the small bundle on the exam table. "Do you have the supplies I asked for?"

He grunted an affirmative and retrieved the bag he'd placed in the corner of the room. He carried it over to the table, grimacing as he got a good sniff of the new arrival.

"Stinks," he proclaimed, plopping the bag onto the table.

"Oddly enough, the plane was lacking in infant supplies," Helen said, barely glancing up at him. He huffed and watched as she unwrapped the infant, setting aside a small blanket to reveal what he was sure was a men's undershirt wrapped around its bottom. The child was small, perhaps only days or weeks old. It looked helpless as it lay there, tiny limbs flailing. It was a male child and what little hair it possessed lay plastered close to its head.

He picked up a trashcan and held it out for her to drop the sodden and smelly diaper into. "Watson doesn't want this back, does he?" he asked, recognizing the scent on the shirt under the stink of the infant.

"I think he is most resigned to its loss," she replied. "Besides, he desperately needs to update his wardrobe."

He huffed and watched as she cleaned the infant and clothed him in the diapers he'd purchased. With the soiled material further away, he could now get a good read on the infant's smell.

"He's not human," he declared.

Helen looked up sharply. "Are you sure?"

He huffed. "Werewolf, but not quite," he declared.

She sighed. "I was afraid of that," she said. The infant started to fuss and she wrapped him up in a blanket and took it into her arms. "There's a conclave of them on the Moors."

He nodded. "Always have been."

"True. But with the development in the area, their territory is being threatened. That's why James and I went there, to offer them refuge in the Sanctuary," she explained the reason for her trip.

"They refused."

"Most adamantly," she confirmed.

"What about him?" He nodded towards the bundle in her arms.

"James and I found him, abandoned on the Moors."

"They would never do that," he said. 

"Agreed," she nodded. "But only if he was a pure lycanthrope."

"You don't think that he is."

"I think, despite the elders demanding solitude and separation from humans, not all of the youth are honoring that." She gestured with the infant. "And he's the byproduct."

"Half-breed," he huffed.

"Most likely," she said. "Too human to be werewolf, too werewolf to be human. And a mother that was in over her head."

"Watson didn't want the lost puppy?"

"Can you seriously see James raising a child?" she asked. "Much less changing nappies and warming bottles."

"I don't know if I could see you doing it," he said, ignoring her glare. "Where are we going to send him?"

"We're not." He stared. "Lycanthropes are exceedingly rare. In fact, their drive for genetic purity has likely doomed their race. The conclave on the Moors is much smaller than it used to be. I'd estimate that within four to five generations they will be inbred beyond redemption. Already there have been several crippling abnormalities." She looked down. "Besides, just because he carries werewolf genes doesn't mean the traits will manifest themselves."

"And if they do?" he asked, not sharing her optimism but well aware that once she set her mind to something, there was no changing it.

"I suspect we have until at least puberty to devise a plan."

He snorted. "Needs a name," he said.

"I was thinking of that during the flight," she said. "How about Herbert George? After Mister Wells." He stared at her, holding her eyes until she looked down. "What's wrong with Herbert?"

"He already might be a werewolf and you want to give him a name like that?" he asked, poking at the tiny bundle.

"It's a good English name," she protested.

"He's a Scottish werewolf pup," he said.

"The Moors are in Yorkshire," she corrected, her national pride bristling along her spine.

"Don't care," he said, nonplused by her feigned anger. "Still a bad name."

"Then you name him," she ordered, thrusting the infant towards him. He accepted the small bundle, fumbling a bit to hold it properly. He breathed deep and closed his eyes, processing the scent. The infant made a sound and he looked down to see it opening its eyes, staring up at him with an unfocused gaze. "Henry," he declared.

"Henry?" she asked. "How is that better than Herbert?"

"It just is," he said, pushing the infant back at her. "I'll put the crib in your room."

"Very well," she acquiesced. She bounced the child. "Welcome to the Sanctuary, Henry."

~Fin~

  



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